19th of Cylus, Arc 718 - Evening
The young Element had finally been given leave to take a trial off for herself this season. Things had been desperately busy among the Elements for all of Cylus, between working cases with Keim’an and working guard duty for a survey team in the Scalvoris mountainss, Sephira had barely been given time to breathe these last few weeks. Tomorrow was the trial she would be graduating fully into the Flame Troops and thankfully the Elements had been kind enough to give her some time off. Granted she had stayed overnight at Greenleaf Garrison after working with the Land Troops for a few more breaks to complete her training with them; so she was currently in Almund. It was a bit troublesome to be away from her home during her time off but the Element had plenty of errands to run that could be taken care of in Scalvoris’s capital city.
Sephira desperately needed to buy new clothes and perhaps a bit of light armor. Her own coat was beginning to show signs of wear and the fashion conscious mage was not about to be traipsing around the island in threadbare clothing. Her first stop had been the marketplace to place an order for new clothing with one of the local seamstresses. She ordered a new crimson coat made of sturdy wool with gold embroidery. After extensive measurements were made for the garment Sephira purchased a simple white shirt and belt that would be delivered when the coat was completed a few trials later. Paying a visit to a local blacksmith in the marketplace she purchased a well-tailored leather chest piece that would fit well with her new clothes. By the late afternoon the woman had at least caught up on her shopping and was looking for a quiet place to get away from the oppressive presence of the crowds. Sephira was no social butterfly, so being around large swathes of people made her as nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs. Perhaps that is why she had taken to rupturing so strongly; it was a means of escape, of true freedom that could not be taken from her; as far as she was concerned.
Moving toward the outskirts of town the mage spied signs pointing to the nearby Witchwood cemetery, it was supposed to be the largest graveyard on the island, perhaps she could find some solitude there. Who else would seek the company of the dead in the early hours of the evening? She had caught snippets of conversation as she grew nearer to the cemetery that people tended to avoid the place as the sun went down due to its macabre nature and the rumor of necromancers frequenting it at night. At least she could be assured of some seclusion here.
Oaks draped in moss shaded the snow draped headstones. Sephira pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders as the temperature seemed to drop slightly as she entered the graveyard. An old woman was slowly meandering her way out of the cemetery gates as the mage entered, leaving her quite alone among the silent graves. Crows with glittering black eyes cawed brazenly as she passed beneath them. The gravestones were a strange mixture of shapes as was the layout of the grounds. There were curious twists and turns along the well-trodden footpaths as the graves seemed to be clustered in random groups. Making her way to a distant corner of the cemetery Sephira took a seat at an empty stone bench, gazing blankly at the gravestones several yards to the right. It was strange, but the act of resting, of simply doing nothing with her time seemed to alien and unfamiliar to the Element. Perhaps it was the weeks and weeks of work and layers of disquiet that kept her from relaxing. Her gloved fingers twitched uneasily as though her hands did not know what to do with themselves when at rest. After only a few bits Sephira snapped to her feet, letting out an irritated huff of frustration. Snatching up a cane sized branch from the ground she gave an experimental swipe with the light makeshift weapon. At least there was no one around to trouble her. Flourishing the stick with a single twirl of her wrist she struck out at the empty air; the limb whistled faintly as it sliced downwards at an angle at some invisible opponent.
Well if she couldn’t crack the code to relaxing and enjoying her time off, she could at least practice her swordplay.
Sephira desperately needed to buy new clothes and perhaps a bit of light armor. Her own coat was beginning to show signs of wear and the fashion conscious mage was not about to be traipsing around the island in threadbare clothing. Her first stop had been the marketplace to place an order for new clothing with one of the local seamstresses. She ordered a new crimson coat made of sturdy wool with gold embroidery. After extensive measurements were made for the garment Sephira purchased a simple white shirt and belt that would be delivered when the coat was completed a few trials later. Paying a visit to a local blacksmith in the marketplace she purchased a well-tailored leather chest piece that would fit well with her new clothes. By the late afternoon the woman had at least caught up on her shopping and was looking for a quiet place to get away from the oppressive presence of the crowds. Sephira was no social butterfly, so being around large swathes of people made her as nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs. Perhaps that is why she had taken to rupturing so strongly; it was a means of escape, of true freedom that could not be taken from her; as far as she was concerned.
Moving toward the outskirts of town the mage spied signs pointing to the nearby Witchwood cemetery, it was supposed to be the largest graveyard on the island, perhaps she could find some solitude there. Who else would seek the company of the dead in the early hours of the evening? She had caught snippets of conversation as she grew nearer to the cemetery that people tended to avoid the place as the sun went down due to its macabre nature and the rumor of necromancers frequenting it at night. At least she could be assured of some seclusion here.
Oaks draped in moss shaded the snow draped headstones. Sephira pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders as the temperature seemed to drop slightly as she entered the graveyard. An old woman was slowly meandering her way out of the cemetery gates as the mage entered, leaving her quite alone among the silent graves. Crows with glittering black eyes cawed brazenly as she passed beneath them. The gravestones were a strange mixture of shapes as was the layout of the grounds. There were curious twists and turns along the well-trodden footpaths as the graves seemed to be clustered in random groups. Making her way to a distant corner of the cemetery Sephira took a seat at an empty stone bench, gazing blankly at the gravestones several yards to the right. It was strange, but the act of resting, of simply doing nothing with her time seemed to alien and unfamiliar to the Element. Perhaps it was the weeks and weeks of work and layers of disquiet that kept her from relaxing. Her gloved fingers twitched uneasily as though her hands did not know what to do with themselves when at rest. After only a few bits Sephira snapped to her feet, letting out an irritated huff of frustration. Snatching up a cane sized branch from the ground she gave an experimental swipe with the light makeshift weapon. At least there was no one around to trouble her. Flourishing the stick with a single twirl of her wrist she struck out at the empty air; the limb whistled faintly as it sliced downwards at an angle at some invisible opponent.
Well if she couldn’t crack the code to relaxing and enjoying her time off, she could at least practice her swordplay.
Dialogue|Thoughts
